


Like, Love, Haha, Wow

by Chash



Series: Followers [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12962970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke's been famous for so long that she doesn't really think about it, a lot of the time. It's not easy, but it's just a part of who she is.But the spotlight is new for Bellamy. It's going to take some getting used to.





	Like, Love, Haha, Wow

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [spectacular-spectacular](http://spectacular-spectacular.tumblr.com) and [pottersandtheirredheads](http://pottersandtheirredheads.tumblr.com)!

"I still don't understand how famous people go on the internet."

Clarke glances over at Bellamy, sees he’s on tumblr and his dashboard has presented him with a photoset of pictures of the two of them together, taken from Clarke's instagram.

"The same way regular people do, but our computers are better and our connections are faster."

He snorts. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be a dick." She leans in to check the tags on the post:  _#clarke griffin #clarke griffin's incredibly hot boyfriend #seriously are we sure he's not a model? #or some kind of perfect human specimen she had custom made for her in a hot guy lab? #does anyone know where this hot guy lab is? #asking for a friend_. "Who is this person? Are you following them? Which account are you on?"

It's not like he doesn't use bb-hate anymore, but he has had to cut back. It's not, exactly, that he has an internet presence he's embarrassed of, it's just that he has an internet presence he didn't think anyone would ever care about. He curates hollywood-histories carefully, but his personal blog was just that. With his own name in use, it didn't take long for the followers he had there to figure it out, and once one person started spreading the word among her fans, it caught on.

Apparently he's not used to getting anons asking for threesomes.

So he's largely abandoned that tumblr, only passed the new one along to mutuals he actually trusted, and he's rebuilding a new kind of internet footprint.

"This is the one I made to stan for you," he says, and she snorts.

"I forgot about that one."

"I was just checking the Clarke Griffin tag, but I decided I wanted to start actually keeping up with some of the fansites and BNFs. See if there was anything--bad, I guess."

"You know Raven does that, right?"

"We can both do it. You have plenty of weird fans to go around."

"I guess I'm just used to it," she admits. "All of it. I was raised knowing that people were interested in my parents, and interested in me. I knew about all this--stuff." He raises his eyebrows, and she shrugs. "There was a countdown website for when I turned eighteen."

"Jesus, really?"

She shrugs. "People are gross and women are oversexualized. That's why my mom didn't want me to come out as bi as early as I did, she thought it would make people worse. And maybe it did, I don't know. There was enough grossness that a little more didn't register. I did warn you," she adds, because she did.

"Is it worth it?" he asks.

"I think so. I don't know what else I'd do."

"That's a shitty reason to do anything," he teases.

"I like it. And it's been better, recently."

"Why?"

"You."

He actually looks surprised. "Me?"

"It's nice to have a personal life. And someone who's just--mine. I've never had that before."

He smiles, a pleased flush on his cheeks. "I like you too."

"So it's worth it to you too? Celebrity by proxy? Because it's going to get worse."

His expression falters. "Worse how?"

"We've got that premiere next week. Imagine how good they're going to think you look in a suit."

"I do look good in a suit." He kisses her hair. "It's mostly still--fucking surreal. That people are interested in me. I went from like fifty Instagram followers to twenty thousand. And I keep getting new ones. I don't even  _do_  anything on Instagram."

"I should be recording these conversations for my mother. She was so sure you were just using me to get famous, and every time you realize people know who you are it freaks you out."

"It's weird," he grumbles. "What's a red carpet like, anyway?"

"Depends on the red carpet. This one shouldn't be too bad. The movie's pretty small, so it's not like--legions of screaming fans or anything. You'll look nice, we'll get our picture taken, you won't be in some of the pictures because no one cares about you. Sorry."

"Yeah, we talked about this. I would love if no one cared about me."

"Most of your Instagram followers are just hoping you're going to post pictures of me, if that helps."

"Sort of." He clears his throat. "Look, it's not like--it's not exactly a downside for me. It's fucking surreal, don't get me wrong, and sometimes people will recognize me, which is weird. All my classmates know, and my professors, and sometimes people ask me about you. It's definitely weird, but it's not some huge burden. And at least the internet thinks I'm hot."

“Yeah, that’s a comfort.”

“It is. Not—I don’t need it for my self esteem or anything, but it would suck if the  _what’s she doing with that guy?_  tags outnumbered the good ones.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t be able to stalk me on tumblr.”

“And that would be the real tragedy.” He leans over and kisses her. “It’s worth it, Clarke. A lot worse than this would be worth it. I just still can’t believe this is my life,” he finishes, nodding to the tumblr post. It’s got almost 1500 notes, and as far as she’s concerned it deserves more. They’re really cute.

“I can’t either,” she says. “But maybe we’ll get used to it.”

*

“Are you sure you want to do this? You could find another escort.”

Clarke frowns at her mother. “That seems like a waste when I already have a boyfriend.”

Abby sighs. “I’m not asking because I don’t like him. I think he’s a very good boyfriend for you.”

A month ago, Clarke wouldn’t have believed her, but Abby really does seem to have come around on Bellamy. Clarke thinks it’s a combination the way he’s mildly terrified of cameras and his obvious and genuine adoration for her.

“So why are you asking?”

“Because I know how overwhelming public appearances can be. If he’s not ready, it wouldn’t be hard to find you some other company. One of your co-stars from  _Goredd_ , maybe, someone who obviously reads as a friend.”

“I think this is probably a good choice for his first one,” she says, slow. If Abby wants to have a real discussion of this, Clarke is game. “It’s not like there’s going to be a ton of press. If he can’t handle this, it’s way better for us to find out now, instead of letting him off the hook and bringing him to a blockbuster.”

Abby regards her for a moment, and then asks the question Clarke’s been expecting since she told her mother about Bellamy three months ago. “So, you think he’s going to be here for a while.”

"I want him to be. And even if I didn't, it seems stupid to plan around him  _not_  being around."

"That's not what I meant. You know how it is. I know how much he cares about you, but your star is on the rise. This is likely to get harder, not easier."

Clarke's not actually sure that's true. Bellamy is, honestly, the most interesting thing that's happened to her on a personal level in years, both for her and for the media. She's always been a disappointing child star, quiet and serious, and part of that has been that she's not necessarily interested in becoming a  _star_. Prestige TV is a good fit for her, a schedule more like a regular job, time to really dig into her role, to get to know her character. Some of her co-stars are less enamored of it, don't like having to be doing the same thing for so long. Some people get into acting because they want a lot of roles, but Clarke is aware, always, that this isn't her passion, not like it is for a lot of actors. It's a day job, and TV shows make a better day job.

Her mother thinks that  _Goredd_  is the next step in her career, but Clarke's starting to wonder if it might be the peak. If this might be the height of her ambition. Not that she can't do movies sometimes, over the summer, but she thinks that being that kind of actress might not really be her goal.

It's possible it won't get worse. Especially as Bellamy stops being exciting. Her dating a grad student she met on the internet is a great story, and she can certainly get publicity out of it for now, but if they keep on being themselves, two nerds who like hanging out on the couch and watching bad movies, the opposite of an exciting tabloid cover story.

That could be enough for Clarke, as a future. A steady career, a quiet life, a boy she thinks she might already love.

"I want him to come with me," she says. "And he already got a tux."

"You already got him a tux."

"I'm a lot richer than he is," she says. There's clearly still a part of Abby that thinks Bellamy is taking advantage of Clarke's wealth, but Clarke couldn't live with herself if she made Bellamy rent his own tux to go to her event. If not for her, he wouldn't be going to this, and nice tuxes are  _expensive_. Even just rentals. "If you say you like him, you have to actually like him."

"I like him." It's not even that grudging, when she says it. "But--he's nothing like I was picturing for your boyfriend."

"He's nothing like I was picturing either," says Clarke. "I'm just lucky, I guess."

*

"So is this premiere a quid-pro-quo situation?" Bellamy asks. He's straightening his tie and adjusting his hair in the mirror, and Clarke is watching him both because she likes watching him and because she knows she's set and she doesn't want to start obsessing over how she looks. Looking at Bellamy is a lot better.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He finally gives up on tweaking his appearance and sits down next to her on the bed. "I have the grad-school equivalent of a red carpet next week. I couldn't decide if I wanted to ask you to come or not, but then I realized I don't want to go alone."

"I'm not sure what the grad-school equivalent of a red carpet is."

"Department cocktail party. It's--everyone else is going to be bringing significant others, but I feel like if I do it I'm showing off. But that's bullshit. You're my girlfriend, I want you to come with me. And it's not like they don't know we're dating."

"Do you want me to come?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Then I'll come. Assuming I don't have a conflict."

His mouth tugs up in a small smile. "Thanks."

"That doesn't have to be a quid-pro-quo thing," she points out, bumping her shoulder against his. "You don't have to come to things with me to get me to come with you. That's just girlfriend stuff."

"I figure it's probably kind of--" He waves his hand vaguely. "It's like a public appearance. Those are stressful."

"It's not. I'm not there to be Clarke Griffin, I'm there to be your girlfriend. I can be polite and shut people down and shift focus to you."

His eyes narrow, expression clouding with suspicion. "I always forget you're actually good at this stuff."

"It's my job. Speaking of which." She exhales and stands. "The car should be here soon. Are you ready?"

"Almost." He stands himself, leaning down to press his mouth against hers, soft and brief, trying not to mess up her makeup. And then he sighs, gives her a crooked smile. "Okay, ready."

The movie is a fairly small independent, with good award buzz, but a limited release. It's very much a critic's movie, and Abby was the one who wanted her to take it, another positive step for her career as a serious movie actress. Clarke likes it well enough, but she's definitely a supporting player in a guy's life, not  _quite_  a prize, but not a fully formed character on the page. It's the kind of thing where she might get some nods for best supporting actress, even though she's third-billed, just because the story isn't enough  _hers_.

If she'd been dating Bellamy when she was filming it, she probably would have complained a lot. As it is, she just says, "This is the film equivalent of when a white guy in his thirties tells you he's been writing a movie loosely inspired by his own life, just so you're prepared."

He snorts. "So, the main character is a writer going through a mid-life crisis? Are you the grad student he decides he needs to sleep with?"

"No, I would have vetoed that. It's not as bad a role as it could be, but you can tell that the writer assumed my character just stopped existing when a guy wasn't looking at her."

"What do you say about stuff like that? When people ask."

"Euphemisms, and then in like ten years I can be honest." She shrugs. "It's not as bad as some of them, I just wanted you to be ready. It's not my favorite project."

He squeezes her hand. "It's going to be fun. I haven't seen you on the big screen since we started dating. It'll be even weirder than regular TV. Do you take your shirt off? Is it that kind of indie movie?"

"Is that really a draw? You saw me naked like half an hour ago."

"I'm pretty sure I'm never going to get tired of seeing you with your shirt off."

She has to smile. "I think it's just down to bra and then the sex scene fades to black."

"Whatever, I'll take it. Anything else I need to be doing? Do you like your co-stars? Is anyone going to ask me any questions?"

"Just be yourself."

"Are you sure?" he teases. "Sometimes myself is an asshole."

"Just don't be honest about what you thought of the movie. Unless you liked it. You really don't have to be nervous," she adds. "I trust your judgement."

“Cool, can’t wait to break that trust.”

Clarke glances at him. “You aren’t actually nervous, are you?”

“No. Can I take a picture of us for my Instagram?”

“You want to?” she asks, surprised.

He huffs. “I’m going to the red carpet premiere of my girlfriend’s movie. This is exactly the kind of thing I want to be documenting on Instagram. If my thirty thousand followers want to say weird shit about it, I’ll live.”

She snuggles in close so he can get the shot. “I’ll tell Raven to share it from my account too,” she says, and he takes a few so they can pick the best one together.

The red carpet is, as always, kind of a weird zoo. She and Bellamy pose and smile, and she introduces, and he gives the right answers to all the questions he gets about if this is his first premiere and if he’s excited and what tux he’s wearing and what he’s studying.

For Clarke, it’s a lot better than she was expecting. Not that she thought it would be bad, but she never really likes these things that much. They tend to wear her out.

But she liked her co-stars, and she finds she’s looking forward to introducing them to Bellamy. Raven meets them there so she can do social media stuff and get free drinks, and suddenly it’s a lot less like a work event and more like seeing a movie with a couple of friends, albeit a movie that she’s in.

Plus, there are a lot of cute pictures of her and Bellamy in formalwear. She’s definitely happy about that.

“You could do this more often, right?” she asks, finding his hand in the dark before the movie starts.

He kisses her hair. “As many times as you want me to, yeah.”

*

Clarke Griffin fandom is, apparently, very excited about the pictures.

“There’s definitely a vocal minority that’s upset you’re dating a guy because it means you’re not a real bisexual,” he says. “But I’ve been fighting them.”

“You have? Really?”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to fight them.”

“Obviously, but I guess I usually don’t.”

He shrugs. “I’m not doing it as myself. I know how to sockpuppet. But someone needs to remind them what bisexuality means.”

“Are there a lot of cute pictures of us?”

“Tons. My selfie’s definitely the most popular.”

“Everyone likes a candid. And we're cute." She props her chin on his shoulder, closing her eyes. She had a long day filming, but she likes coming home to find him in her place. He hasn't officially moved in yet, but she gave him a key and he's around all the time, and Clarke loves it, loves coming home to find him there, making dinner or drinking tea or playing video games. "I'm really glad you came. To the premiere."

"Me too. I'm excited to go to more." She feels his lips press against her temple. "Seriously, I had fun. It wasn't hard."

"So what about yours? Grad-school red carpet. How am I going to do with that?"

"It's more similar than I thought it would be, honestly. Mostly a lot of drinking and schmoozing, but there's a speaker instead of a movie."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"No." He clears his throat and she opens her eyes to consider him, all perfect profile and freckles. "Just--I assume it's a lot weirder being the only famous person in the room than the only non-famous person on a red carpet. I don't know how anyone's going to act."

"You're a lot more likely to run into people being assholes to you in Hollywood."

"You say that, but academia's full of snobs, and you--" He worries his lip. "At least one person is going to be an asshole about how your highest degree is a GED. And you can deal with that, I know you can, I'm not worried. Just--I'm sorry it's going to happen."

Clarke smiles, kisses his jaw. "I'll be fine. I've had producers condescending to me since before I knew the word for it. It sucks, but that's not going to be new. And we can gossip about the assholes after."

"So, you're telling me this relationship might actually work?" he teases. "Who would have thought."

"Not to jinx it," she says, taking his hand and twining their fingers together, "but I really think it might."

*

She's pretty sure Bellamy is more nervous than she is about the whole thing, and Clarke will admit, she can't blame him. There's this inherent risk to bringing a high-profile guest anywhere, and bringing a B-list actress to an academic lecture is really a lot. The fact that she's his girlfriend and his bringing her is completely understandable only does so much good. She's still Clarke Griffin, and it's still weird for her to be here.

But she's not planning on going anywhere, so they should get used to her.

"You know, I've seen pictures, you talked about her, but I still didn't really think she was real," says the first girl they meet, Harper. "Or, you know, your girlfriend."

"That would have been the weirdest long con ever. Was I hacking her official social media accounts and no one noticed? She puts pictures of me on her Instagram."

"Technically my social media manager does that," Clarke says. "She says I'm not good at Instagram."

"You're not good at Instagram," Bellamy agrees. He considers Harper for a moment. "Were you guys betting on if she'd really show up?"

"Obviously. Not money, but--yeah, we were gossiping about it like every time you weren't around. Sorry!" she adds, flashing Clarke a smile. "Just--it sounds so fake."

"If I was going to make up a fake girlfriend, I wouldn't pick a famous actress. I would have said she lived in Canada like a normal person."

"I film in Vancouver sometimes. I could totally be your girlfriend who lives in Canada."

"Lives in LA, commutes to Canada sometimes."

Harper is watching them with a smile playing on her lips, but when Bellamy raises his eyebrows, all she says is, "You know, I can see it. I see why you guys are dating." She pauses. "But you didn't really meet on  _tumblr_ , right?"

It's not as representative of the evening as Clarke would like. His classmates are mostly fine, aside from the expected assholes, the ones he's been ranting about before they started dating. And it is nice to be able to put faces to the names, to meet the people who make up his day-to-day life.

But she hasn't felt so conspicuous in a while, and hasn't felt so guilty about it. She draws attention in a way she didn't want to, news that she's around spreading like wildfire, heads turning wherever she goes. And while Bellamy doesn't seem annoyed that she's drawing focus, he is clearly annoyed that everyone is being so, well, obvious.

"Fuck, you're just a person," he says, once they're on their way back to her place.

"Thanks."

The teasing tone doesn't quite land, and he deflates. "Sorry. I'm not--I shouldn't have asked you to come, I'm sorry."

"I don't  _mind_ ," she says. "It's just--it's going to take some getting used to. More for them than for me. It's like Harper said, probably a lot of them didn't really  _get_  it."

"I tried to warn them."

She squeezes his hand. "Seriously, it's fine. I haven't felt weirdly famous in a while. It's probably good."

"Sure it is." He wets his lips. "You want to get used to it?"

"The lecture was really interesting," she says. "I wouldn't mind coming to more. And once  _Goredd_  wraps, I think I might want to get a degree? I don't know. I like school, I think it would be fun. So I should do that where you are, so everyone will be used to me."

After a second, he laughs, this soft, short little huff. "Sometimes I still can't believe you're--trust me, I want to still be your boyfriend when  _Goredd_  wraps. I want to be your boyfriend forever. But it's still hard to imagine. Having a future together."

"Yeah." She leans her head on his shoulder. "I love you," she says, soft. It's hard to know if it's too soon, but it doesn't  _feel_  too soon. She's been thinking it for weeks, and she's tired of not saying it, tired of thinking he might not  _know_. "I'm not planning on breaking up with you."

"I love you too," he says, and tilts her chin up for a kiss. "So--we're going to get better at this stuff."

"Yeah," she agrees. "I think we'll be fine."

*

The next red carpet is six months later, and it's both a much bigger and much smaller deal.

"I'm not actually nominated for anything personally, so they're not going to want to talk to me too much. Just some sound bytes about the movie."

"I know you think this is helping, but we're still going to the  _Oscars_."

“You don’t have to come.”

“It’s the Oscars, Clarke, of course I’m coming. Especially since you’re not sure you want to do more movies. This might be my last chance.”

“They invite me every year, I just usually don’t go. If you want to, we can whenever, but it’s honestly pretty boring.”

He pauses, and then starts to laugh. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m dating someone who goes to the Oscars so often it’s not even novel anymore.”

“My mom used to make me com with her.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Is there an academic equivalent of the Oscars? Do I go to that?”

“Probably graduation. I assume you’ll come to mine and skip it once I’m just a professor.”

“ _Just_  a professor,” she teases. “Like that’s not an amazing accomplishment.”

“It will be if anyone hires me. Until they do, I’m sticking to trophy boyfriend. Which is the other reason I’m coming to the Oscars. If I’m not around to be arm candy, what good am I?”

She tugs him down by the lapels of his tux, giving him a much quicker kiss than she’d like. Bellamy was basically  _made_  to wear formalwear; tumblr’s going to be so excited.

“I think you have a couple other things going for you,” she tells him.

“Maybe one or two, yeah.” He puts his arm around her. “I want another selfie. I think pre-red-carpet selfies are going to be my thing. I’m trying to hit fifty thousand Instagram followers.”

“Really?”

He reconsiders. “I want to hit fifty thousand, but I’m not really putting any special effort into it. But it would be cool, right? To have a tradition.”

“Yeah, a tradition would be nice.”

And it is nice, every single time.


End file.
